Small Doses
by absurdvampmuse
Summary: Roan/Clarke one piece. /Clarke was released suddenly and roughly in the throne room, stumbling but finding her footing quickly while her eyes landed on Roan who sat crownless and sleep-affected on the dais./ She was a delicate dissension that he respected and in a way, they were kindred spirits./ Takes place in Season 4


**Disclaimer: I don't own the TV show _The 100_** **, nor do I own the books. I am merely borrowing the characters. All I own is the laptop I'm writing this on.**

 **A/N:** I found a new pairing to ship! Although I still ship Bellamy and Clarke as well. My past Bellarke stories are evidence of this. Still, I am now also drawn to Roan and Clarke and I had to get this idea out of my head. I apologize if the characters aren't quite right just yet. It's a ship in progress. I hope you'll enjoy a glimpse into my mind.

* * *

 **Small Doses**

 _I can only take you in small doses…_

Clarke was ripped from her sleep, the action mimicking the sensation of being pulled underwater without warning and swallowing a mouthful of water before kicking frantically back up to the surface. Yet there was no instant relief when she broke the surface as she was confronted with the hard and violent lines of the face of one of the royal guards. It was of a male she had seen around before, but not often enough for his name to slip any further than the tip of her tongue. She couldn't describe the look in his eyes as anything but hateful and his approach reflected that, his grip on her tight enough to hurt as his fingers dug into her skin as if he was looking for something beneath.

His strength was evident in his exterior as well as in the minimum effort on his part it took to tug her from between the warmth of her furs and into the unforgivable temperatures of the night. Her toes curled inwards as soon as her feet hit the cold stone. Still, she saved her breath and forced herself not to put up a fight as the large guard dragged her out of her room, down a hallway and into another room. The harsh manner in which she was treated, reminded her of the world she was now a part of. It was as clear as day, visible all around her, never allowing her to forget but in her sleep. When her mind granted her that brief reprieve that was.

Clarke was released suddenly and roughly in the throne room, stumbling but finding her footing quickly while her eyes landed on Roan who sat crownless and sleep-affected on the dais. He wore only a pair of loose pants and a dark blue long sleeve with a deeper V than he usually wore. Her eyes skimmed the exposed skin of his chest before they dropped down to the floor, her arms wrapping around her of their own accord as she realized that more of her own skin was on display than usual as well. It wasn't that she didn't own the skin she was in, but in front of these two large men -one whose gaze held no decency whatsoever and one whose eyes were difficult to read- it was hard not to feel stripped too bare.

Roan's elbows were on his knees, his demeanor lax while his eyes remained vigilant as he took note of Clarke's vulnerable position and her sleep attire.

"Adan," Roan greeted the member of the royal guard. "What has you rousing me at this time of night? What couldn't wait and had you insisting on seeing me immediately?" Roan folded his hands together in his lap while straightening in his seat so he had an unobstructed view of the other man. His eyes flicked over to the blond, one eyebrow raising in question. "What did Wanheda do this time?"

"She was caught stealing," Adan's voice boomed through the space.

Clarke bit her lip in an effort to stay quiet, although the roll of her eyes couldn't be missed by either of the men.

"Explain," Roan directed at Clarke.

"The shirt she is wearing, My King. It isn't hers. She took it."

"It does appear to be one of mine," Roan remarked, amusement swirling in his eyes as he gave a slight nod of his head.

Clarke hooked her fingers into the shirt's fabric as realization hit her: the oatmeal colored long sleeve with the crisp and natural scent embedded into the fabric and soft but too long sleeves belonging to none other than the King of the Ice Nation. "I found it," she said the words softly and carefully, her eyes locking on Roan's. "I wasn't aware that it belonged to anybody, let alone to you."

Her breath was cut short as Adan drew his sword and touched its tip to her stomach. "Admit that it was a calculated move. To trick my people into believing that your alliance with the King goes further than it truly does."

Clarke's eyes burned with disbelief and animosity as she glared at the man who could make her bleed with one sweep of his hand. "Are you hearing yourself? You're implying that I purposely took one of Roan's shi-"

"It is King Roan to you!" Adan took a step closer, coming close enough that she had to look up at him. It was an intimidation tactic.

"I didn't know it was Roan's shirt," Clarke articulated the words slow enough for both Adan and Roan to hear the edge they held. "I offered to stay behind of my own free will and the last time I checked, I was a guest. One who can pick up and leave whenever she decides to do so." The words sounded convincing, despite the doubt she felt at her own words. She had stayed behind as an insurance policy of sorts, or a show of good faith, depending on who asked. Yet the omnipresence of the royal guard and the eyes she felt following her everywhere contradicted this belief.

She saw by the flash of contempt in Adan's eyes that he didn't take well to her standing up for herself. The hold on his sword was steady as he moved his mouth closer to her ear. "Take it off," he hissed.

Clarke flinched and attempted to take a step back, but Adan's hand was already there on her upper arm to keep her in place.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Roan rise and step down from his dais. "Adan, I appreciate your thoroughness and cutthroat loyalty, however-"

"I'm not sleeping with your King," Clarke said the words before Roan could, not needing him to jump to her defense for a claim that seemed to come out of thin air and was based on nothing but speculation. "And whether I take off the shirt or not," she went on, whilst reaching for the shirt's hem and tugging it off in one fluid en pointed motion, "it wouldn't reverse the act if I had indeed copulated with said king." She balled up the fabric and threw it at Adan, making good use of the distraction by pulling herself free and taking a handful of quick steps away from the guard and placing herself nearer to Roan who was now at her back.

Roan now had a clear view of the spirited blond who was left in nothing but her black under things. Her fair skin a battleground of old imperfections, healing scars and new bruises, all mere proof of her strength and courage in his eyes. Her legs were strong with muscle yet the panties and bra softened the lines and made both men aware of how feminine she could be. A delicate dissension that he respected. But showing weakness for her would also reveal his weakness as a fierce and ruthless leader, the one his people wanted him to be. So, he hesitated, a split second that she somehow sensed.

Clarke made the decision for him and turned around so her back was now to Adan, a vulnerable position. Both hands on her hips, she looked up at him defiantly. "Now that that's settled, can I go back to bed?"

The guard behind her let out a dismissive snort, his fingers already circling around Clarke's upper arm. "You need to be punished for your constant show of disrespect towards the King and his people." He shoved her hard, but before she could land on her hands and knees in the submissive position Adan was aiming for, Roan moved. He could no longer stand by and not step and stand up for someone who had done so for him. In a way, they were kindred spirits. He caught her, hands on her bare waist while she grabbed on to his arms. Their eyes met and he felt the relief as her body sagged against him for a few seconds.

"Enough!" Roan's voice proclaimed. "You are not the one to administer retribution. Adan, you know better than to disturb me for trivial matters like this one." He let go of Clarke, maneuvering around her so she was now slightly behind him. "As it considers one of my own garments, isn't it my decision whom I loan it to and whether or not punishment is required in this instance." To stress his point, he shed the shirt he was wearing and handed it to Clarke.

Adan bowed his head in a silent nod, yet his eyes were still on Clarke, something Roan didn't miss or liked. He hindered Adan's view by walking over and picking up the now discarded shirt from the floor. His pace was slow, giving Clarke enough time to cover herself before he put on the shirt she had been wearing before.

Clarke was glad to be covered once again, pulling the sleeves over her hands and the hem as far as it went. This shirt smelled of Roan even more.

"Next time consider more carefully if it's worth your life. After all, each action has a reaction. You do well to remember that, Adan. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, King Roan," Adan replied with another bow of his head before sheathing his sword and standing up straight. "I will escort Wanheda back to her chambers."

Clarke didn't like the predatory gleam that Adan's eyes held and the promise of a sanction despite his king's words and perhaps even because of them. She rarely let fear close enough to the surface for it to visibly affect her, but she would be no match for the large warrior when she didn't have the luxury of privacy which would lead to him having the element of surprise each and every time. She was on his territory.

"That won't be necessary. You are dismissed. For now." Roan turned his back to Adan, the rigidness in his back lasting until he heard the heavy thud of the door as it was pushed closed.

Clarke chewed on her bottom lip as if contemplating her next words, although she bit them back completely, brushing past him as she made to leave. But he intercepted her by clasping her wrist and keeping her close to him. She placed her free hand on top of his, the one he used to stop her, intending to push off his touch. "I'm tired, Roan. I'll return your shirt tomorrow."

"Do you honestly believe that I am bothered by you wearing one of my shirts?" It was a rhetorical question. "If you want me to be completely forthright, it looks better on you than it would ever do on me." It was a compliment that he gave more easily than she had expected from him, one that left her with a warm sensation in the pit of her stomach. It was a pleasant feeling that intensified under the weight of his gaze and the boyish playfulness that he tried so hard to mask whenever in public. "I don't fully trust Adan not to do something foolish and act out. I am too fatigued to personally stand watch all night to assure your safety. You're staying here tonight," he made the decision without thinking twice about it. "I'll deal with Adan and my people in the morning. If you don't mind that is?" His bottom lip twitched with barely contained amusement. "It's for your own good," he reassured her, gently squeezing her hand without thinking, an act of intimacy and affinity.

Clarke heard the truth in his words and felt the genuine concern for her in his nonverbal communication so she simply accepted his offer and nodded, forgoing the usual objection.

Roan took the win silently and merely gestured to the door behind them that lead into his personal chambers. The room was pitch-black and she found the massive bed by touch, Roan chivalrously waiting for her to slip beneath the lush furs before he followed suit.

Clarke curled up on her side facing him while Roan lay on his back, one hand behind his head while the other arm rested in between their bodies.

"Thank you," she told him, her tone as soft as the expression on her face, one that was so uncharacteristic of her that he took pleasure in bearing witness to it. "I know what it costs you each time you defend me."

Roan averted his gaze and brought his free hand up to his chest. "I didn't survive the Ice Nation by letting people walk all over me with their demands. I know what it means to do the right thing and to be on the right side, Clarke." His eyes found hers again in the dark, this time heavy with the weight of words left unsaid.

"Still, I am just one person. An outsider to your people."

"I can hold my own, Wanheda." He patted his fingers against his chest in emphasis. "It's what I've been doing all of my life."

"I don't want to make it harder for you," Clarke shared, curling one hand beneath her head as she studied him, waiting for his response.

"I like challenges. It's been a long time since I have met someone who could go against me and prove their worth," Roan paid her the compliment freely. "Adan's unbending loyalty is also going to be his downfall one day. He needed to learn this lesson."

"Thank you," she repeated her gratitude, something she rarely did.

Roan nodded his head, his hand gesturing to the furs covering them. "This arrangement, it is my pleasure."

The twinkle in his eyes was what made Clarke grateful for the cover of darkness; otherwise she wouldn't have been able to hide the color on her cheeks. "I'm sure you have more enticing options."

A deep chuckle vibrated through his chest. "Compared to you, never." He pulled his hand from behind his head and turned so he too was now on his side and facing her, close enough to reach out and touch her if he wanted to. But he refrained. "Now, sleep. No one will disturb you again," he made her the promise.

The comfort of the vow covered Clarke like a blanket and she finally allowed herself to close her eyes, falling asleep almost instantly.

Roan watched her until his own eyes fell shut as well.

* * *

 **Please review? :)** I would really appreciate your thoughts. As well as any suggestions for Roan/Clarke stories. :)


End file.
